


There's More to Life than Sports and Girls, Fenton

by dizzyraybabe



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: College Bound AU, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Senior Year of Highschool, swagger bishie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyraybabe/pseuds/dizzyraybabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the start of their senior year of high school and Danny still has no idea where he wants to go for college, let alone what for, so he hasn't even applied yet. Tucker has already applied and been accepted to MIT, Sam has already sent out her applications and received scholarships, even Dash has been accepted to MSU! (Football scholarship, but still). His entire year is going to be changed, though, once he discovers a certain little Jock's secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday, September 7th: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AU: I don't want to give too much away, but I have an OC in here named Danae (Greek, pronounced duh-NAY) who bears a striking resemblance to one Dash Baxter. The kids are all in their senior year at Casper High, and school just started. Everyone's fussing over college and such. It's beautiful weather (I personally ADORE autumn) and it's just a good start to a lovely school year. Let's see how this goes...

It was a cool Minnesota day, with the leaves changing colour and a nice September breeze blowing just barely through the ghost-teen's unruly raven hair. The air was crisp and the sky was beautiful, the halfa noticed as he wrapped his navy peacoat tighter around his body. It wasn't cold, per se, but he already had an ice core, so that alone made it a hundred times chillier than usual.

Danny was headed down to the Nasty Burger, as always. It was his senior year and still nothing had changed, everyday after school he'd come home for a nap, get his schoolwork dealt with and put away, and head out to meet his friends. Same old, same old.

He wasn't sure what drew him to Dash's bedroom window, but something did. It could have been the sound of a little girl squealing with glee, or the unmistakeable sound of hairspray being spritzed, or Dash's smooth voice over it all saying: "Come on, Danae! Stay still, I don't want to get it in your eyes!"

Needless to say, Danny was intrigued, even if only to catch a secret to use as blackmail on the blond. He figured Sam and Tucker would be fine for a few extra minutes while he spied on the bully. He rushed over to a couple of nearby trees, carefully as to not be seen, before two white rings appeared over his body. His intangibility skills had become incredibly useful for spying and playing pranks on Dash, and today was no exception as he silently made his way up and into Dash's bedroom. He really wasn't sure what he'd find, but what he did see certainly shocked him.

A little blonde girl, with Dash's enchanting blue eyes, sat on a chair holding a mirror. She couldn't have been any more than 3 or 4, but it was hard to tell from all the makeup she was wearing. Her red sequin skirt swooshed a bit as she kicked her legs back and forth, and she pulled what appeared to be Dash's jacket tighter around her. Her hair bounced with curls in two pony tails every time she giggled, unable to stop looking in the mirror. She put a hand to her red lips and smiled even brighter, and Danny swore he could see Dash putting some makeup brushes back into a drawer, hiding them underneath a bunch of books and such.

"Does that mean you like it, Danae?" Dash smiled at her, rubbing something colourful (looked mostly like red and silver?) off of his hands and onto the old Danny-the-geek-Party t-shirt he bought freshman year. The little girl grinned widely at him, bobbing her head up and down. She jumped off of the chair and clung to Dash's leg, and if Danny listened hard enough, he could swear he heard Dash whisper "that's my pretty little girl."

Danny had to shake himself from where he was floating and hurried to the Nasty Burger. He was positive he wasn't supposed to see that. "That's my pretty little girl?" Who was she? Danny was positive he'd never heard of Dash having a little sister or anything. And did he just see Dash actually do somebody's hair and makeup? The dude was a total jock, and had been accepted to MSU on a full football scholarship. Sport-playing-heterosexual-super-masculine guys like that don't know how to do hair and makeup, right?


	2. Tuesday, September 8th, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't see Dash being stupid, even though he doesn't need to be very smart since the teachers at Casper High seem to favour jocks over anyone else. Thus, in his senior year, I've put him and a couple other well-known kids in Advanced Biology. Enjoy :)
> 
> P.S. I'd said I'd update _at least_ every Monday. But sometimes I may update more often(:

First period started at 7:30AM, but Mr. Harring, the Advanced Biology teacher, was usually late to class anyways. Danny was always early, eager to leave the house as soon as possible as to get away from his ghost-fanatic parents. Dash was currently the only other person in the room, sitting in front of Danny. Assigned seating and all that. Danny stared at his notebook and homework questions. Dash was sitting close enough so that Danny could smell his cologne. The ghost teen's sexuality was no longer a secret, proof being him fantasising about the jock as he bit his pencil.

Danny finally came out of his daydreams and scrawled the remainder of his last long-answer in his homework notebook. He tore it out skillfully as to not actually rip it and thus, lose a part of his answer. Mr. Harring hated the "dangling chads" so he tried to keep those in the notebook, never ripping them out with the assignment.

The raven-haired boy leaned sideways a bit to see the clock better, when he noticed the jock scrolling through an app. Danny wasn't stupid, he had used Pinterest before. Sam introduced it to him. Often times when he had a free moment he'd open it up and check out some astrology and space-related stuff. But the fact that Dash was scrolling through the "Hair & Beauty" category intrigued Danny considerably. Suddenly, all the questions he had kept to himself came floating back into his mind. Who was the little girl? Did Dash really do hair and makeup? Since when did he even care about stuff like that?

The morning bell finally rang, the class filtered in and filled the seats. Danny decided it may be best to not bring up the topic.

* * *

"Alright, now each of you is going to pick a card. There's 24 students in this room, and there's 12 pairs of exact matches in my hand. I'm going to walk over to each of you, you'll draw a card, and find your mysterious lab partner," Mr. Harring called out. He started on the left side of the room, each student drew a card and looked at it. Only 3 cards had been dealt and some teens were already trying to trade, but Mr. Harring was having none of that.

"No trading, no complaining, no taking a new card. None of it," he said, his voice booming with authority. The kids looked like they just had their favourite candy taken away.

Sam wasn't here today, and the anxiety of not having his best friend here during random partnering made him nervous. What if he was paired with someone he never talked to before? Or worse...? No, he couldn't think like that. He put his head down on the table and squeezed his hands together, trying to settle the butterflies in his stomach. He was getting nauseous and dizzy.

"Whatcha get, Kwan?" Dash asked his friend excitedly. Mr. Harring must have been close to him with the Deck of Doom.

"Ace of Spades! You better draw the other!" Danny could hear the grin on Kwan's face.

A couple of seconds went by, before Danny heard Dash let out a sigh of disappointment.

"Queen of Hearts."

Danny's heart was pounding. Mr. Harring tapped on his shoulder, and the halfa regrettably sat up. He swallowed thickly, drawing a card. He turned it over, and...

Danny had to swallow back his vomit.

Mr. Harring saw the expression on his student's face and peaked at the card. He gave a weak smile, mouthing "you'll be fine," before walking to the desk behind him.

After the rest of the cards had been dispersed, and Danny had successfully kept himself from passing out, the balding teacher walked back to the front of the class.

"If you're unsure of who you partner is, raise your hands."

Only two hands went up, Dash's and Kwan's. Danny didn't raise his hand, he knew who his partner was.

_No trading, no complaining, no taking a new card. None of it._

"Dash, what is your card?" Mr. Harring asked, straightening his tie.

"Queen of Hearts," the blond answered.

"And who has Dash's match?" The old blue eyes fell onto Danny, who shakily raised his hand.

"Dash, it appears your partner is Danny," he said. Dash turned back to look at Danny, and almost disgustedly scoffed "great."

Danny wondered what the worst thing could be if he happened to fase through the floor.

"And Kwan? Your card?"

"Ace of Spades, sir."

"Ah, the last card left. This card would be Miss Manson's, if she were here today. She'll be your partner."

Kwan nodded in acknowledgement, clearly not as unsatisfied as Dash with his randomised project-partner. Danny's stomach churned again.

"Alright everyone, take a seat next to your new partners! One person from each table can come grab a paper from up here," Mr. Harring spoke over the noise.

Dash stood up and turned around. "You go get the instructions, Fenturd," he sneered, thumb pointing in the general direction of the stack. Danny nodded slightly and stood up, trying to avoid eye contact with the blond.

Next thing he knew, he was tripped and on the ground.

Dash laughed, "Have a nice trip, see ya next fall, dweeb." The class roared with laughter, except for a couple of people. Kwan, surprisingly, being one of them.

Danny stood back up and continued on his way to the desk to get a paper. His eyes and throat burned, threatening to cry. Why the hell was he crushing on this guy so hard? All Dash ever did was treat him like shit. Still...

Danny grabbed a sheet and walked back to his seat, Dash already taken up Sam's usual spot. The raven-haired boy sat down dejectedly. Dash ripped the paper from his hands and scanned it, before tossing it back.

"If you don't score me an A+, Fentoad, I swear to God..." he grumbled. Danny just tried to melt further into his seat.

* * *

Mr. Harring went over the instructions. It was simple, given this _was_ Advanced Biology. All they had to do was create a diagram of a Eukaryotic cell. The examples included things like PowerPoints, drawings, macaroni art, cakes, clay shapes, etc. Cake was what caught Danny's attention, he'd always liked to bake. Growing up he had a hell of a sweet tooth. He smiled to himself at the the thought of baking a Eukaryotic cell, he could make homemade marshmallow fondant and-

"Whatcha smiling at, loser? Dreaming about your _boyfriend_?" Dash punched him in the arm, not hard enough to cause a scene, but hard enough to nearly knock Danny from his seat. The halfa groaned, begging for the period to end.

"No, Dash, I wasn't. I was thinking about the most creative way to present our project. You know, so we both _score A+s?_ " Danny sneered back. His face was blushing, he could feel it. He just hoped Dash wouldn't notice.

"And what would that be, nerd?" Dash grabbed the paper again and looked at it. His smile screamed fake happiness, and begged Danny to say anything good enough to warrant getting hit. Danny hesitated.

"I thought the cake would be cool," he muttered, looking away. Dash scoffed and crumpled the sheet, throwing the ball at the ghost teen's head.

"If that's not the gayest thing I've ever heard..." Dash started. Danny immediately went into defensive mode, and it shocked the hell out of the jock. Dash could swear he even saw Danny's eyes turn green.

"Baking does not have a sexual orientation," Danny gritted through his teeth. "Gay is not a word you can just use to describe something you don't like. Stop being such an asshole! If you want me to do the project, then I'm going to do it my way! Don't like it? Then get that puny little brain of yours out of your ass and focus on something other than sports and girls!" Danny was yelling now, and Dash was stunned to say the least. Before the blond had a chance to say or do anything, the bell was ringing.

Danny was seething. Mr. Harring tried to ask him (not yell or force him, the teacher completely understood) to stay behind, but Danny was having none of it. He was sick and tired of people using his sexuality as a crude term for something lame or stupid, he was sick of being treated like shit, and he sure as hell was sick of Dash Baxter!

* * *

Dash's heart was pounding and his mind was racing as he walked out of the classroom. It wasn't often someone as good natured as Danny blew up like that, and Dash really did feel like an asshole. He'd never admit it though.

Kwan put his hand on Dash's shoulder in a friendly "bro-to-bro" manner. Dash had never told his best friend about who he'd really been romantically after all these years, but he didn't have to. It was obvious, if you delved a wee bit deeper than the surface.

"It'll be okay man, but it'll get better faster if you apologise," he said. Dash just nodded his head, trying to shake the guilt overwhelming him.


	3. Tuesday, September 8th, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are unaware, some schools have a "First-Year Experience" class, which explains how to do everything you may have to do your first year of "adulthood" and beyond... it's quite fun(: And of course, there's a parenting topic. Woooooo! :P
> 
> Enjoy(:

Dash was annoyed, to say the least. Kwan left school early today, which left him alone in his least-favourite class of the day: _First-Year Experience_. They've already covered review on Home Ec class (a required class, just like this one) buying or renting housing, bills, etc. He wasn't sure what topic was next. Dash threw the syllabus away the first day they walked into class. He  _did_  know all of what he was taught already, what with Danae and his dad being an asshole and what not... but he played the part of the clueless jock anyways. Better that than raise questions...

The blonde took his sweet time walking to class, entering at the exact moment the bell rang. Only a couple of kids filed in after that. Everyone sat at their seats, chatting happily with their partners and surrounding friends. The only one without their partner was his oh-so-lovely Biology partner, Fenton. He sat with his chair pushed out, arms crossed on the table, and head resting over the crossing limbs. His back was arched and Dash took notice of his shirt riding up just enough to reveal his belt and jeans. Only a few inches higher were his navy American Eagle- what were those, boxer briefs? Oh, Dash liked those. They weren't childish like actual briefs, but they still hugged the body just right--

Dash shook himself from his daydreaming. He needed to be careful with whom he stared at and for just how long. He sat down at his table, on the opposite side and far behind Danny. He glanced over at the raven haired boy, who seemed to be staring at the white board unamused. Mrs. Jones was gathering up the papers to be passed out. Dash looked up at the board and groaned when he saw the new topic to be covered: "Parenting 101"

Dash knew plenty about parenting. This entire class felt like one big "life review" to him rather than actually  _learning_  something.

The auburn woman began passing out papers, and Dash's mind wandered once again back to Danny. The jock still felt pretty bad, he never understood why he was so mean to Fenton. Kwan said it could have something to do with just not accepting himself, and maybe it did. The girls liked to joke and say 'boys are always mean to the girls they like.' Perhaps it was the same when it came to Danny. Come to think of it, when did Danny learn to bake? That was actually pretty cool. Now that he thought about it, Fenton was always good in Home Ec, and did his best to help out his fellow classmates.

Clearly Mrs. Jones had been explaining directions, as the last thing Dash caught was "...if your table-mate isn't here today, you'll have to partner up with someone else. No waiting for them to get back, we're starting today. They'll just be behind..." The light sound of pearls clacking off of one another and high heels clicking resumed as she walked back to her desk.

Dash looked around, the only person alone today was-

Fenton was already at his desk, glaring at the jock with his book bag on the ground. He nodded in the general direction of the chair, and that when Dash noticed his own book bag occupying the seat.

"Oh, right, sorry," he muttered, quickly moving it next to him on the floor. Fenton just sat down, without saying a word, and began reading the paper.

Dash was nervous: lump in the throat, butterflies in the stomach, heart racing, sweat starting, it was always like this. But if Fenton had ever noticed the way Dash's body betrayed him when they were near, he never said anything about it.

Should he apologise? Well, duh. But he was Dash Baxter, star quarterback 4 years in a row, the most popular kid in school. He didn't apologise for anything to anyone, especially not to the biggest loser in school.

 _But he's not a loser,_ Dash thought. He took a deep breath, preparing to apologise, when blue eyes turned to meet his.

"I've decided that we're only talking when absolutely necessary, such as for projects. Unfortunately, this project will involve a lot of communication, unlike biology. Unless, of course, you've decided  _you_  can handle this project on your own?" Fenton's dark brow raised, waiting for an answer.

What the hell? 'Only talking when  _absolutely necessary_? Who the hell did he think he was? And to think, Dash was going to apologise. He was  _actually_ going to  _apologise_! Well, if that's how he wanted to be, then Dash would just have best him.

"What, you can bake, but you can't raise a baby? Isn't that all that you gays do? That and, what, interior design?" Dash wasn't making himself feel better by lashing back out, but he couldn't help it. Raising a kid doesn't make you homosexual, it makes you a good parent. Baking is just cooking with sugar, and without cooking there'd be no food, no  _meat_. Interior design, well, that was up for debate in Dash's mind...

"Did you- did you  _seriously_ just bring up my sexuality again? How old are you, Dash?! Twelve?! With as much as you like to talk about gays, you'd think you were one!" Dash saw it this time, Danny's eyes definitely turned green. There was no mistaking the ocean blue flashing lime green, but Dash expected that. Maybe Fenton had the town fooled, but Dash wasn't stupid. 

"Boys!" Dark green eyes glared at them both, as Mrs. Johnson slammed a book on the table. "You see, that's just it. You're not boys anymore, you're men. Men, who now have a baby to deal with," she said, taking the doll from her other arm and gently setting it down on the book. "There will be no bullying in this classroom, understood?" Her eyes dared them to defy her, as she stared them down with her massive-pointed nose in the air. Neither Dash nor Danny responded.

"I said, IS that UNDERSTOOD?" She said again. Both the blond and the dark-haired boy nodded in acknowledgement. "Good," she muttered, walking away.

* * *

"Neil? That's a stupid name. Besides, who said it's a boy?" Dash argued.

"Neil as in Neil  _Armstrong?_ The guy who walked on the moon? And why can't it be a son? Wouldn't someone like you  _want_ a son? You can teach him sports! Or, he can take after you in other ways, like being a dick! Wouldn't that be fun? Teaching your kid it's alright to beat on people to the point where they just want to kill themselves?" There was a huge grin on Fenton's face, his voice sounded like it was from a 1950's ad talking about the perfect family... it scared Dash. He was speechless.

Had Fenton actually wanted to commit suicide before? Did Dash actually make him feel that way? The quarterback was about to vomit, but the bell ringing distracted him just enough.

Danny grabbed his book bag and stood up. "Since  _I'm_ such a  _flaming homosexual_ , I guess it would  _only_ make  _sense_ for me to be the mother. Which means you get paperwork, and I get the child," he said, picking up the doll. Dash cringed as Fenton was holding the baby in an almost acceptable manner, except the neck-

And like that, Fenton was walking out of the room.

 


	4. Friday, September 12th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Danny has an anxiety&depression attack. He thinks cuts himself and there's mentions of suicide. You've been warned. And if this is a problem for you and you want to read the chapter, message me. I know how much it sucks to not read a chapter because you're afraid to find out what you'll do. I get it. I'm here for you, I love you, and I'll gladly sum up the triggering parts and send you a copy of the chapter without them<3

The ghost teen found himself home alone quite often now that he was older. Jazz was still at college, his mother was gone to Europe on tour, and his father would be gone for the next week to Kansas on a hunt. He needed today to be on his own. It was Friday, nothing much ever happened on Fridays, so Danny knew he wasn't missing anything great. And that no one was missing him. No one ever missed Danny.

Although the break from the bullies and drama was nice, being left to his own devices often lead to more hurt than comfort. The halfa stared at his ceiling, littered with decade-old glow-in-the-dark stars. Danny remembered when he was little, and his mom helped him put up the stars in forms of constellations, and stuck what was left around randomly. It was one of the raven-haired boy's favourite childhood memories. But the nice thoughts did nothing for Danny's further worsening state.

He baked the cell cake for Biology class earlier and finished his homework. School was still in session, at least for a bit. Danny's stomach turned with nausea, and he tried to fight it. He really did. Tears were welling up and his throat was dry, itchy, not to mention closing. He couldn't swallow the lump back down. He couldn't keep the tears from falling down his face. He knew he was home alone, so eventually, he gave up the fight.

It hit him, hard. His mind was racing with hopeless feelings that will never be returned, with shame and embarrassment for  _everything_ who he is and always will be, and guilt. Guilt for things he'd never be able to change, people he'd never be able to really save, and feeling this way when nothing was really wrong with his life. Everything could be worse, much worse. But here Danny was, wanting a better and easier life because he didn't like the cards he was dealt.

He hated himself for that.

It was bad, really bad. The halfa slid his hand underneath the pillow, into the case, and pulled out a small velvet bag. Looking at it only made him cry harder.  _People in the world are being abused, starving, dying from cancer, who knows what? How dare you think your life is anywhere near as bad as theirs?_ Danny tore the red strings open in a mad fury. He stuck his two fingers inside, that's all that would fit, and felt the cool metal in between them.  _Someone that pitiful really doesn't deserve the life they have..._

He threw the little bag on the floor, dry-heaving for a few minutes after. He couldn't breathe. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that it actually hurt. He pressed the thin metal into his skin, not drawing it across or down his arm, just deeper and deeper into it.

He cried out. He was angry, frustrated, hurting, so many things that he just wanted to keep inside. Keep private. He didn't want to burden anyone with his problems. He knew that if he talked about them as Phantom, then people would listen. Kids would think he'd be a hero for speaking out about it. Danny didn't- couldn't see it that way. It made him weak.

His heart nearly exploded when he heard pounding on the downstairs door. He panicked, hiding the blade under his pillow and throwing on a black hoodie before heading down. He couldn't let anyone see him like this. The blood was soaking the sleeve and Danny hid his arm behind his back. He was still trying to get his breathing under control as he slowly took each step at a time.

"Fentino, open the stupid door!" Dash's voice vibrated through the walls, freezing Danny. More bangs on the door came, and Danny doubled over the banister, clutching it for dear life as he dry-heaved again. His knees were shaking, threatening to give out. What was Dash, of all people, doing here?

Danny's ghost half could pick up the sound of a very upset jock sighing and grumbling under his breath before he heard his door jiggle and open. Hadn't Danny locked it? He could have sworn he had. Dash's angry footsteps were coming closer, but the teen couldn't move. He was shaking, crumbling under his own weight. He hands were hurting from the death grip he had on the railing.

A burst of adrenaline hit him hard once Dash came into view. He managed to bolt up the stairs and back into his room. The door slammed shut, Dash still following in pursuit. The raven-haired boy's hands fumbled with the lock, but got it just in time when Dash made it to the door.

It was silent, if for a moment. Danny melted against the door, head between his knees and arms covering his face. He didn't understand, was he hallucinating? Maybe Dash wasn't there. This isn't a fairytale, and Dash, no matter how much Danny wished he was, was definitely  _not_ his prince charming. Dash wasn't here to come to Danny's rescue. Why was he here anyways?

"Fenton, you missed school today," Finally, Dash's voice came from the other side. He sounded less angry now, he wasn't shouting anymore. He sounded, tired...

"No, I wasn't. Congrats, you found me," Danny said back, careful to keep his erratic breathing quiet. Another minute of silence.

"We got a zero today from Mrs. Jones for the baby not being there," he said, even quieter than before.

"I'm sorry. I'll be sure to wear shitty clothes Monday when you throw me into the dumpster. Or swirly me. Or whatever revenge you plan on enacting," Danny muttered back. He wasn't trying to start a fight. In his mind, these were facts, guaranteed to happen.

Dash sighed. "I don't want to fight, Fenton," the blond added.

"Then why are you still here? Why did you even come at all?!" Danny's voice was raising, but breaking.

"I- I don't know."

"Then go."

"Fenton-"

"My name is Danny."

"Danny, there's blood on the railing."

His eyes were watering again, his breathing was short and shallow, his heart was beating harder and faster and  _louder_ and...

"You were obviously, um, upset. I'm not as stupid as I look, I can put two and two together, Fenton."

"Go away, Dash. Nobody asked you to come here, and nobody wants you here now." It was an outright lie. Really, Danny wanted nothing more than for Dash to swoop in and carry him to his bed, cuddling him for the rest of eternity, making everything okay...

"If you don't let me in, and either let me fix you up or make sure you do it yourself, then I'm calling an ambulance." 

Danny laughed, hysterically. He was losing it.

"What the hell are they gonna do? I'm eighteen, Dash, they can't do anything if I tell them not to. It's the law," he spat back. But Dash really  _wasn't_ stupid, and neither was Danny. He knew better.

"They  _will_ take you to a psychiatric facility on the grounds of you hurting yourself," Dash's voice remained calm, even if this was the beginning of another argument.

"Don't you dare, Dash," he threatened.

"Let me in, I won't hurt you. I get it," the jock tried. Danny's laughter returned, full force. 

"What do you get, Dash? You get having parents never be home or care to even call you and see if you're okay? You get being bullied all the time for the things you can't control? You get be so depressed and helpless that you-" Danny had started ranting and was so angry, he couldn't even hear the sound of someone pick-locking his bedroom door.

"-want to kill yourself? Yes, Fenton. I get it," he cut Danny off with a soft nudge of the door. Dash figured Danny was somewhere in front of it, his voice had sounded awfully close.

Danny shot up, unsure of how Dash got in, but quickly realised when the blond threw his tools off to the side. Danny's blue eyes met Dash's in absolute horror. The quarterback did get it, though. He stepped through the door and closed it, standing against it. He did his best to look as unintimidating as possible, but it was hard for a guy his size. Danny just shrunk into his bed, smearing blood on the comforter. His hoodie's sleeve was literally  _drenched_ in blood. He must have pushed the blade in hard, deep, way more than he had actually meant to.

Dash saw it, and looked at Danny, like he was asking if it was okay to come over. Danny's eyes remained wide, he was scared. He didn't understand. So he did the only thing he could think to do. In the moment Dash took a step towards Danny, with his hands up in a surrendering gesture, Danny grabbed the razor blade from underneath his pillow. He held it up, towards Dash, stopping him effectively.

"Fenton-"

"DANNY!" the raven-haired teen corrected.

"Danny, please, put it down," Dash tried, his voice was calm and collected. He was roughly 5 feet away from Danny, and could easily tackle him into the bed if the need should arise.

"Why? Why do you care? Why are you even still here?!" Danny was becoming frantic. He couldn't breathe. He was crying again. Oh god, he was crying and Dash could see him and his arm was  _throbbing_ and not in the good make-you-feel-better way.

"I care because I understand. Just hand me the blade, and we'll get you taken care of," Dash tried to remain cool, for Danny's sake. At this point, however, Danny already seemed pretty far gone.

"You don't understand, Dash! How can you? I'm just, I don't know! I'm tired, and I don't want to do this anymore," Danny's hand fell as he crumbled under the weight of his depression.

Dash was there in an instant, grabbing the blade and tossing it into Danny's make-shift trashcan. Slowly, carefully, he removed Danny's bloody sweatshirt from his body, weary of the gash on his left arm. Danny continued sobbing, one of the blond's arms was now holding him while the other held the ghost-teen's bleeding extremity. He turned it a bit, staring at it, before sighing.

"Shh, shh. It'll be okay, eventually. I- I think you're going to need stitches, though," Dash whispered. Danny's eyes shot open wide again at the prospect, he can't go to the hospital.

"No, no, I can't! Dash, you don't understand! They'll draw blood and... and..." Danny was panicking. What if he lost enough blood where they'd wanna give him a bag? They'd have to draw his blood and test it, what if something happened and his secret got out? How do they even test blood anyways?

"Hey, hey, I know. I won't let them, I promise. We'll just get you closed up and back home, okay? They won't know your secret, they don't have to..." Dash whispered, rocking the panicking teen in his arms. He knew that anxiety and panic attacks varied from person to person, especially how to comfort them (he just held his teddy bears until he fell asleep. Lame, but it worked). Danny was seemingly calming down, clutching the jock's shirt with his good hand while his breathing seemed to regulate. The halfa was tired, so tired, he just wanted to sleep...

"Fenton? Come on, you need to stay awake. And you really need to go to the ER... alright, come here." Dash adjusted the dark-haired boy so he was carrying him bridal style. Danny merely mumbled in response, eyes drooping and hands holding on for dear life. He could vaguely remember the sensation of being picked up and carried out before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you find the reference to one of my other main fandoms, I'll write you a oneshot, totally your prompt(:
> 
> Also, any and all unexplained behaviours in this chapter WILL be explained in the next. So if you have questions/concerns/problems with the character behaviour/development in this chapter: stay tuned!


End file.
